Chapter Ten #2
“Bingley has always preferred cheer to caution,” Hurst said. “When the numbers become unpleasant, he simply ceases to look at them.”
Darcy stopped and faced him again. “And Miss Bingley?”
Hurst gave a humorless laugh. “She has never concerned herself with what a thing costs, only with whether it looks as it ought. I do not even know if her fortune is intact. And it will do no good to attempt to rein her in. Louisa made an attempt and failed. Since we do not know the exact state of Bingley’s finances, we have no leverage. ”
“Her improvements may undo him,” Darcy said sharply. “He cannot afford them.”
“No,” Hurst agreed. “Nor can he afford a single bad harvest, or a year of poor rents, or the loss of a major tenant. Despite cautioning him, he behaves as though none of it touches him.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “He is responsible for more than his own convenience now.” The reiteration sat bitterly on his tongue.
“I told him as much,” Hurst said. “He laughed and said that everything would be very well once the house was properly settled.”
Darcy let out a breath, slow and controlled. “A house may be settled in a season. An estate takes years.”
“And discipline,” Hurst added.
Darcy nodded grimly. “Which he does not yet possess.”
Silence fell between them, broken only by the wind through the leaves.
“At what point,” Darcy said at last, “does he realize the danger?”
Hurst’s expression was bleak. “Usually, my dear Darcy, just after it can no longer be ignored.”
“And what of you? Have not you and Mrs. Hurst lived on your brother’s charity for years?”
Hurst laughed mirthlessly. “Yes, we have. My father is ailing but continues to stubbornly refuse to give up the ghost. Louisa’s dowry is safely invested, and we spend the interest frugally.
By living with family or visiting friends for several months out of the year, we can live well on that income.
And when my father dies, the interest will be invested for any children we may have.
Unlike Bingley, I was raised to manage an estate and know how to avoid financial ruin. ”
Darcy regarded Hurst in a new light. How had he missed the man’s calculating shrewdness, his subtle comprehension of what happened around him? It was simple: Darcy had not bothered to look closely, relying on what was readily apparent rather than the truth. It was poorly done of him.
“What is to be done? Bingley is his own man—I cannot force him to see reason.”
Hurst nodded. “Neither are you required to rescue him when he inevitably fails. Remember that. For now, we must simply watch and wait. His actions and decisions moving forward will inform our reactions.”
“That is a sensible plan.” Darcy’s stomach churned at the new information he now possessed. There was an urge in him to save his friend from the coming disaster, but there was, in reality, nothing he could do.
As the gentlemen walked back to the house in silence, Darcy realized something else.
Bingley was intent on courting Elizabeth’s sister.
The family was under the impression that their daughter, one of the gentry, was being courted by a wealthy man.
Had not Elizabeth stated that their estate was entailed?
A marriage to a man of fortune would save them.
Before they entered the house, he paused again. Hurst followed suit. “How long are we to remain silent before it becomes necessary to protect others from this folly?”
“That remains to be seen. You speak of Miss Bennet, do you not?”
Darcy nodded. “I do not know if Bingley is aware—she has no fortune. She cannot prop up his estate.”
“Caroline has already informed Louisa that the family is penniless. It is a matter of time before she tells her brother. But her motivation will not be because Bingley needs money. No, she is unaware—or willfully ignorant. She will gleefully inform him because she does not wish for her aspirations to be hurt. I suspect Charles will ignore his troubles until he cannot. His actions will leave Miss Bennet heartbroken and the topic of gossip when he withdraws.”
It was despicable in every way. Darcy frowned in displeasure. “It is intolerable,” he said at length, “that a young woman should be encouraged—however innocently—under false impressions of security.”
Hurst’s mouth twisted. “You assume Charles encourages her deliberately.”
“I assume,” Darcy replied, “that a man who allows affection to deepen while concealing material truths is culpable, whether by design or neglect.”
Hurst studied him for a moment. “You speak as though you already see the end.”
“I see the direction,” Darcy said. “And I do not like it.”
They stood there a moment longer, the house looming before them—Netherfield, handsome and orderly, betraying nothing of the instability beneath its polished surface.
Darcy thought again of the tenants, the servants, the tradesmen whose fortunes rested upon a man who preferred charm to calculation.
He thought, too, of the Bennet family—unguarded, hopeful, and wholly unaware of how fragile Bingley’s position truly was.
“At present,” Hurst said, “there is nothing to be done without causing greater harm.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I know.”
But knowing did not still the unease within him.
They resumed their walk, and as they mounted the steps, Darcy resolved upon one thing only: he would observe more carefully henceforth.
He had misjudged Hurst by accepting appearances; he would not repeat the error with Bingley.
Friendship did not absolve folly, nor did good intentions excuse negligence.
Inside, the sound of laughter drifted toward them from the drawing room—light, untroubled, entirely at odds with the realities Darcy now perceived.
He paused before crossing the threshold, struck by the strange dissonance of it all: prosperity balanced upon imprudence, affection shadowed by consequence.
Netherfield stood secure for the moment. But foundations, once cracked, did not announce their failure until it was too late.
Darcy straightened, schooled his expression, and entered the room—bearing the weight of knowledge that could not yet be spoken, and might, in time, prove impossible to ignore.